


Experience is Relative

by Yekith



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Awkwardness, Cute, Fluff, Football, M/M, Romantic Comedy, cheerleading, frob, silly school boys, teen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yekith/pseuds/Yekith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day has arrived when Bob's luck with girls is proved unimportant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experience is Relative

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first -and only- Frob (Frank/Bob), and also my first "school fic". In my opinion, it's just silly and cute.

The first step, surprisingly, hadn't been that complicated for Bob; when the high of the team's triumph was fresh and the cheerleaders surrounded him and his friends to congratulate them.

He'd felt braveness sprout and grow deep inside of him as he locked eyes with his favorite cheerleader, the only one he could never seem to help staring at -no matter how hard the others tried to get his attention. The one who would usually just merely glance at him and then quickly look away when caught, maybe lacking confidence or thinking the chances were inexistent.

It hadn't been a big deal for Bob to go ahead and confess, not minding who could hear him. It had been the natural thing to do when said cheerleader was daring enough to get closer, tiptoe and kiss his cheek to then smile discretely and turn away to leave. Bob's hand had ejected forward to get a hold of one of those tiny wrists. His mouth had opened to say loud and clear -so it wouldn't get lost in the middle of the celebration- what he had been keeping for so long: "I really, really like you. Would you meet me by the big pine tree in twenty minutes?"

Yes, that first step had been a piece of cake compared to what was coming next. Now the adrenaline rush had cooled down and the shower had cleaned his body but also cleared his mind. Bob was freaking out. He didn't regret what he'd done, he didn't feel embarrassed or ashamed; he was simply scared shitless.

Like a zombie he had declined the team's invitation to go for some beers to honor the victory. He couldn't even hear their replies, nor figure out whether they were laughing at him or at some joke someone had made and he'd olympically ignored too. Perhaps _Bob_ had been the joke -they had witnessed his confession after all, but he couldn't care less.

Bob cursed under his breath as he left the showers and took a look at his watch; five minutes late. It had been a bad idea to let his hair grow -even if it was still rather short, because he never knew what to do with it. After standing clueless in front of a fogged mirror for about ten minutes, he had opted for messing it up and allowing it to 'choose its own adventure' once it dried off. Then he had spent another five minutes pondering about whether he should shave, finally deciding that the golden stubble made him look less boyish and sexier. Well, he was only quoting the girls with that last statement.

He stopped worrying about the time he'd wasted when he arrived at the accorded spot near the school gates and there was no one waiting for him. On one hand it was better, it gave him a few more minutes to prepare himself. But...what if his date -he liked the sound of that word in his mind- never showed up?

His fear was proved unfounded when he discerned the small, short figure hurrying along the concrete path; a bag too big hanging from one shoulder and a cigarette held in between two graceful fingers.

With a galloping heart Bob then took in the view of his most favorite cheerleader, one of the three male ones of the school -probably the only ones in the whole state- and his first boy crush; the biggest crush he'd ever had: Frank Iero. How could he _not_ get lost into those huge, bright hazel eyes now adorned with thin smugged traces of eyeliner? How could he _not_ fall for that smile? And the freckles! The little freckles that descended from Frank's nose to his cheeks and were more visible in summer, when the boy's skin was tanned from standing under the sun during games. Bob couldn't just keep on watching him afar.

Frank looked so tiny while approaching him in his faded blue jeans and gray t-shirt, long black sleeves half-hiding his hands. Bob was unable to choose between these regular street clothes and the semi-tight, dangerously low-cut red sweatpants Frank wore while cheerleading. Bob couldn't even _think_ right now. Frank's simple beauty captivated him no matter what, and he had told him that he liked him only thirty minutes ago and... _"Oh my God, now what?"_

******

All doubts had departed from Frank's mind the exact moment the game ended and he spotted his favorite football player exuding not only sweat but happiness; jumping, clamoring, high-fiving and hugging his mates. _"Now or never"_ , he'd thought. Because really, he had nothing to loose. Everyone there knew he was gay and they didn't bother him much, and he was sick and tired of the furtive stares he and Bob shared.

Frank wasn't stupid. Sure, he had first assumed that Bob was looking at one of the girls while they performed their cheerleading routine. However, he soon realised that wasn't the case when one day he lost himself admiring those stunning blue eyes and suddenly caught Bob's unconcealable smile. He _knew_ it was directed to him.

That day Frank had nearly dropped Cindy, who was standing on his shoulders at the moment of the revelation. Back in the dressing room, she had made him promise that he'd control his hormones, otherwise she would force him to parade through the school in her cheerleader uniform -pompoms and all. Even though Frank opined that he didn't look bad at all in it -they were a little drunk some night and the girls _made him do it_ , he swore- he didn't think everybody would agree. What's more, pompoms weren't his thing. Every time he told someone that he was a cheerleader, he got the same question: "You mean...with pompoms?" Fuck no, _no_ pompoms!

He loved cheerleading, though. He had wanted to do that since the first time he saw "Bring it on" and no one was going to stop him. Not his parents, nor his friends making fun of him or the general prejudices. Thankfully, he was enthusiastically welcomed by the team; and not long after he joined, so did Dave and James. Frank suspected that Dave's main interest was to perv over the girls, but they accepted him the same; excited about having _three_ male cheerleaders to help them stand out if they ever entered an interschool competition.

Frank resisted the temptation to search for Bob's eyes during the routines as stoically as he could, but he still felt them on him in the school halls. It was a great thing that Frank was two years younger and didn't share any classes with the player. As much as it seemed obvious to him that Bob liked him, he realistically thought he had zero chances with him. Frank wanted to freely return the stares, wanted to speak to him yet always ended up just stealing some quick glances. Bob Bryar had all the girls at his feet and a reputation to keep. Frank didn't want to be the one to ruin it.

What took him to get close to Bob and kiss his cheek, then? An impulse, a spur of the moment thing. The sight of Bob in that soaked white shirt. Those mesmerizing blue eyes meeting his out of nowhere. His heart beating so hard that he couldn't hear his own thoughts.

Right after he did it, though, shyness had overtaken him and he'd panicked. He didn't want to stay and see Bob's reaction or hear the general laughter explode. Frank's boldness would have been hit-and-run if the least expectable thing hadn't occurred.

Those strong fingers wrapping around his wrist froze him, and he had never felt so much like a girl as when he turned around and found himself face to face with the blond football player. There was no sign on Bob's face telling Frank of a cruel joke. If there was laughter, he was deaf to it. He could only respond to Bob's question with a nod before walking away as fast as it was possible without running.

And there he was half an hour later, rushing again because... _"What if Bob thinks I chickened out?"_  
He sighed with relief when he saw his date -he had never used that word, but it sounded good- leaning against the tree's trunk. Golden hair sticking out in all directions. Gray jeans and a dark green hoodie. Didn't he ever feel the heat? Or maybe Frank did have a problem with his hormones as Cindy said, because he felt pretty hot in his thin t-shirt.

Receiving a questioning look from Bob, he instinctively looked at the cigarette in his hand. Must be that. He rarely smoked and never at school; but he was just too nervous so it was either that, or bouncing instead of walking. The last wouldn't have made a good first impression.

He let the cig fall and Bob's ridiculously big sneaker extinguished it for him. The blond next took Frank's bag, placing it on top of his on the floor, and when their eyes met he didn't know how to read Bob's expression. He was suddenly afraid. What if it _was_ a joke?

******

"Hi Frankie, glad you came..." Bob smiled warmly, although his voice sounded more high-pitched than usual, shaky. He was scared that if he opened his mouth too much his heart would jump out of it. Frank was there, so close and evidently as nervous as he was. No turning back.

"Uh...hi, Bob. First of all, I'm sorry that I'm late. It was the girls' fault, they wouldn't let me leave the showers!" Frank gesticulated. And it was true. He had the girls' permission to use their dressing room and showers, since most of the football team didn't want him in theirs and he was kind of afraid of those huge guys anyway. He did make it clear to anyone who asked that he never took his boxers off in there, not even to shower. It was a matter of respect and of course, self-consciousness -he was gay, the girls _weren't_. This time, because of what he'd done and Bob's subsequent reaction, he had known that he would be in for a lot of squealing and gossiping. Some girls were happy for Frank, some were jealous and tried to convince him that Bob was only playing with him. He'd had to raise his voice over theirs to announce that Bob was waiting for him and he really needed -wanted- to go.

Bob smirked as he imagined the scene. "It's okay, I..." 

"Oh, I know what you're probably thinking!" Frank interrupted the older boy, misinterpreting his smile. "But no, I didn't spent all the time in front of the mirror, I'm not 'worse than the girls' as some might think. See? I didn't even brush my hair!"

"I see...and I like what I see," Bob mumbled. Frank's nearly black hair was still kind of humid and fell messily around his head reaching a little past his ears. It was cute, and it was also sexy. The wind blew and a longer lock of silky hair covered part of Frank's face. Bob made it apart with trembling fingers and... _Oh God_. Those eyes, the small nose, the freckles! And those lips. Red and full, not small or big; perfect. They asked to be kissed. Bob wanted to kiss Frank so badly. But...was it too soon? Some girls would think so, what about boys?

"Thank you." Frank blushed. He hated when that happened, it made him feel like a teenage girl. Well, the teenage part was true, he was only fifteen. "And....I should have said this back then but...I like you too, a lot."

"That...that's g-good..." Bob trailed off. Why hadn't it ever been that hard when flirting with girls? He had always acted pretty sure of himself, and now he was stuttering and he didn't know what to say. He realised that his hesitation had created a silence too long to be comfortable. To the count of three, he dared to lift his head and look at Frank. The boy's confused frown was the call for him to say something more -and better- quickly. "I mean...I'm so glad that you feel the same, I was afraid that you'd only show up to tell me to leave you alone or something."

"Bob...I kissed your cheek in front of the whole football team, why would I tell you to leave me alone afterwards?" Frank giggled. He could see Bob was very nervous. In Frank's book, a nervous big boy was adorable. He wanted to jump on Bob and hug the fuck out of him, but he guessed it was better to control his effusiveness.

"I..." Conscious of his stupidity, Bob was at a bigger loss for words. Frank's frown had dissolved and now his perfect eyebrows were raised in a playful, amused manner. Bob was making a fool of himself and he presumed Frank was mentally laughing at his lack of eloquence. "You're right, that made no sense, but I'm still glad you came and that we feel the same for each other."

"Yeah...." Frank needed some contact. It was maddening to be standing so close to each other without any kind of physical interaction. Things had been rather speedy with the only boy he'd been with before. They hadn't gone too far and they didn't last together longer than a week; but Frank didn't remember the first steps being this painfully slow. Then again, Chris had never put him in such a hormone-ridden stupor. He had never given him life-threatening tachycardia and a million gigantic butterflies having a moshpit in his stomach. "So..."

"So..." Bob stepped forward, eyes conspicuously aimed at Frank's parted lips. He wondered when the temperature had changed, he was okay in his hoodie a few minutes ago. He was desperate to try those lips and touch that skin, but something made him falter: Frank was actually _a boy_. Bob was attacked by hundreds of doubts about details he had never taken into consideration when with girls. He had always proceeded by instinct. Feeling like the most inexpert idiot ever, he resorted to looking at anything _but_ Frank. "I...I don't know."

Frank saw Bob glance around, as if checking or searching for something. His heart sank. All of a sudden, the words of the envious cheerleaders didn't sound like only a malicious attempt to dissuade him from meeting Bob so they could stand a chance. Maybe it _was_ all a big fat joke, and Bob's friends were hiding somewhere to assist at the moment when he broke the naive boy's heart. Or maybe Bob had changed his mind about him being worth ruining his macho reputation. Either way, Frank was going to spare him the punch line.

"I'm not an idiot, Bob. You can go now, it's okay," he let out in the firmest voice he could manage. He waited for the other's eyes to stop wandering around and then he looked straight into them. There appeared to be confusion in those pools of blue. Bob must be a great actor, but Frank wasn't that easily deceived.

"Frank...what are you talking about?" Bob asked. The boy's words had taken him by surprise. What had he done now?

"Was it a bet? Was it a promise you made if the team won? Are they watching us?" Frank searched for any movement in the near bushes, or behind a few parked cars.

Bob couldn't be any more confounded. What was Frank implying? "What...?"

"Nevermind. If they're seeing us now...oops! I may have ruined part of the fun. Sorry. Otherwise, you can go and tell your friends that you fooled the cheerleader fag for a good while and relate how you made him confess his _honest_ feelings for you," Frank continued. He didn't want to cry, he wasn't going to cry because that would mean more points in their favor. He wasn't going to show Bob just how much it hurt.

"Frank, it wasn't a bet or a promise or..."

"No? Oh well, if this is just you realising what a mistake you were making, you can still go and tell them the same. I don't want you to destroy your reputation because of a mistake, you..."

"FRANK, PLEASE!" In his every-day life, Bob wasn't one to raise his voice. Even when furious, he would maintain a low to average volume and calmly tell people to fuck off. If they insisted with whatever they were doing that pissed him off he would -still apparently calm- menace them. Plan three -saved for extreme cases- was executed with no words at all. That being said, these were exceptional circumstances. The boy in front of him wasn't letting him talk, and was going on and on about something that was absolutely not true. And fuck, Bob didn't want to lose that silly, but beautiful boy! "IT WAS _NOT_ A BET OR A PROMISE, I _DON'T_ REGRET A FUCKING THING AND I'M _NOT_ GOING ANYWHERE!"

Frank felt like a wind storm had stricken him, his hair being violently blown back and his eyes forced to shut down as Bob's screaming got through the protective wall he'd been building with his own words. It scared him, but mostly made him feel embarrassed. Why did he have to be so damn impulsive? Couldn't he have waited before reaching a conclusion and accusing Bob? He guessed not. The fear of being ridiculed had been stronger.

"Are you...I mean, you promise?" He knew he sounded like a little kid now, but at this point he didn't care.

"I fucking promise you, Frankie. May the team not win a game ever again if I'm lying to you!" Bob stated solemnly, his hand over his heart in a desperate intent to get Frank to trust him.

"I believe you, I'm sorry..." Frank _had_ to. Bob would never swear on the team in vain, that was something everybody knew.

"What's more," Bob added. "I think it's impossible that my friends don't _already_ know I like you. I've always forbidden them to fuck with you in any way. Of course when they asked why, I was a coward and lied that my family knew yours and I didn't want trouble. But if they saw the way I look at you..."

"Oh...so _that_ is why they've never gone too far with me!" Frank laughed nervously. He _had_ found it strange that he didn't get much shit even though he was gay, a cheerleader and, as if that wasn't enough, one of the best students. Knowing what kept them at bay, made him feel worse for the other kids that had to deal with more than just some sly remarks from the tough guys. "Thanks...and again, sorry for doubting you."

"It's okay but...what made you think I was playing with you or something?" Bob needed to know, it would give him some tips to add to his mental -he should maybe make it real- list of things to _not_ do when with a boy. Or just with Frank.

"Oh...you...you stayed in silence and fucking...started looking around, like searching for something instead of looking at me. And I thought...I thought that your friends...that you..." Frank could feel his cheeks burn and he prayed that his hair was hiding some of the red on them. "Uh...thought you were going to tell me it was all a joke and laugh at me."

"Oh...fuck..." The real reason for Bob to avoid Frank a moment ago came back to his mind and his palms began to sweat.

"Why were you doing that, Bob?"

"I...I just...I wanted to...kiss you. So bad." There, it was out. Now to dig a hole in the ground and disappear.

"Really?" Frank grinned, relaxing a little and enjoying the moment. "That's all? And how were you going to kiss me without even looking at me?"

"You...you were making me nervous."

"How so? What did I do?" Frank questioned. He didn't want to be mean and torture Bob, but he couldn't help his curiosity.

"Oh no, you...did nothing. It's just...your face. I mean, you, just being here. I can't think clear, and I needed to, that's why I...looked anywhere else..." Bob thought that if Frank didn't run away from him after that, then he would be fine. He couldn't get any more lame.

"Think? Why would you need to think if you just wanted to kiss me? As much, you could have asked...if you wanted to be polite. I..." Frank's confident speech came to a halt as his self-consciousness returned -hormones, must be the fucking hormones driving him crazy! He whispered the rest. "...I would have said yes, maybe."

Bob had been wrong, he definitely _could_ get lamer. "I...needed to think about...how to do it?"

"How to do...what?"

"Kiss you?" Yes, that one could go first in his top ten of lameness. Although it was true, he didn't know.

"Are you kidding me, Bob? How many girls have you kissed?" Frank had to laugh, it was the most ridiculous thing he'd heard in a long time. It didn't seem to him that Bob was an inexpert kisser all those times he _had_ to watch him eat some girl's mouth, fantasizing about being in their place. Yes, he might be mildly pathetic an yes, he had hated all those girls.

"I guess...many," Bob murmured, having lost count of his numerous conquests. Not like all that practice was useful at the moment.

"My point." Frank chuckled.

"But...you're _not_ a girl," Bob pointed out, hoping that Frank would catch what he meant. It was a reasonable doubt, wasn't it?

"Oh, really?" Frank got closer to Bob, having fun with the way the older boy fidgeted and tensed. His own nerves, on the contrary, had dissipated. "I wouldn't have known if you didn't tell me!"

"Oh come on, Frankie, don't make fun of me....you know what I mean." Bob gave him what he thought was a pleading look. He really didn't want to have to explain himself.

"To be honest, I don't," Frank replied. Even thought Bob's dilemma was amusing to him, he was truly puzzled. "As far as I know, both girls and boys have mouths with lips and tongues...so what's the difference?"

"No, I know that but...how to explain? It's not just about kissing. It's..."

"Bob Bryar, I'm not going to sleep with you so soon if that's what you're thinking!" Frank backed off slightly, new fears surfacing. That could be the reason behind Bob's rambling and he was _so_ not ready for it. And hell, he had _a hopeless crush_ on Bob, he didn't want to be another one-night stand for him.

"What? No, Frankie...jeez! I...I wasn't thinking of that, trust me!" Bob was on the point of dying because of having to _kiss_ a boy for the first time, no way he was going to even think about _having sex_ for the moment! "I meant...you know, when you kiss you don't just kiss. Like...your arms gotta go...somewhere. And I'd...like to..."

"Ohhh, that?" Frank brought a hand to his mouth so he wouldn't offend Bob with his giggles. "Well, I still don't see how it would be so different! I might have a little more muscle from lifting the girls during the routines -not much, though, they're all fucking skinny. I have a back and a waist too, and an ass that okay...is not as big as a girl's ass, but it's still a pretty decent ass if you ask me. Then..."

"Frankie..." Bob was about to take off his hoodie, he felt trapped in a sauna.

"...I've been told I have some nice love handles. It wasn't the best moment to hear it, since it was an old truck driver who said it and I was alone. I thought that pedophile would kidnap me! But after running at light speed and making it home safe and sound, I took it as a compliment." Bob's stunned semblance told Frank that his spontaneous plan of distraction was working. He needed to stop thinking and Frank would talk his ears off to help him if it was necessary. "I don't have tits, I'll give you that one, but you shouldn't grab a girl's tits during the fist date anyway, Mr. Bryar. I have nipples, yes, but you better not try to go that far today and in public or I'll cut your fucking fingers off, understood? I think that's all."

"Uh...ok." Bob now had a headache to add to the hormonal fever, and his questions were still half-unanswered.

"Okay? Is that all you have to say?" Frank pouted. In his mind, he'd pictured Bob shutting him up with a kiss, yet he was still waiting.

"No but...what happens is...what you do with your arms while kissing can kinda change depending on whether you're the man or the girl...but in this case uh...how do you know?"

"Don't tell me you're asking who would be the 'girl'," Frank quoted with his fingers. He couldn't believe what his ears were hearing, too cliché.

"Kinda? I mean, not literally just...to know how..."

"Okay, you're too big and hairy to be the girl so I guess I am, happy?" Too long. This was taking too fucking long and he couldn't take it anymore. One more "but" and...

"Yeah...but..." Bob could never complete the phrase, for he was assaulted by an impetuous force that pushed him hard against the tree. A warm body pressed to his burning one, arms clinging to his neck compelling him to look down. Down to a pair of sparkling eyes. Down to a small nose sprinkled with freckles. Down to the awaiting lips.

"Enough staring. Enough talking. Just...fucking...kiss me," Frank commanded, although he wasn't going to wait one more second.

Before Bob had time to think: _"Oh my God, a boy is kissing me"_ , he was kissing back; and Frank's lips were just as soft as he had imagined them -or more. While Frank's hands massaged his hair, Bob's instinctively rested on the boy's hips. It felt different, it felt great. Good love handles, indeed. There was no more thinking and when, on a whim, his tongue wanted to explore new territories, he didn't fight it. Neither did Frank who welcomed it with a content hum.

If Bob had been able to use his brain, he would have concluded that kissing a boy was technically the same as kissing a girl; what made the difference was that he was kissing someone he had deeper feelings for. Someone he wanted to keep in his life.

Frank had no more fears or suspicions. The way Bob was kissing him transmitted a lot more than any word the insecure football player could pronounce.

The two boys wisely stopped before their crazy hormones made them do something out of place, or that they weren't prepared for. Their eyes met again, in silence. They smiled and searched for each other's hands.

While walking his favorite cheerleader home, Bob came to realise that the second step, even if with a little help, hadn't been that terrible. And if he had survived that, he could well get to the end of the road.    


End file.
